Twisted
by Teobi
Summary: One-shot about how Gilligan goes off to his cave to be alone when he feels sad.


**Twisted**

When Gilligan disappears off to his cave to be a Lone Wolf, he doesn't do it because he hates the other castaways, no matter how they treat him. He knows they don't really mean it. They can be insensitive at times. Skipper doesn't always realise that his constant criticism has the drip drip effect of wearing someone down. You tell someone they're not good enough too many times and they begin to believe it. Next thing they have that voice in their head all the time, even when they're doing good.

The Professor is a smart man with a good heart, and Gilligan knows he's just trying to get them off the island. But when the Professor disapproves, it's like being told, "boy are you dumb! You'll never be as smart as me!" Most days Gilligan can deal with this because the Professor can be like that with everyone at times, especially Mr. Howell, who calls him 'the Egghead'. But when Gilligan's had a bad day anyway, that raised eyebrow look of the Professor's can be all it takes to tip him over.

Gilligan will sit hunched in the corner of the cold, dark cave with his back against the wall. Knowing there's not much more of a statement he can make to show he's hurting, besides making a vine noose and throwing it over a tree limb. But that's not an option. That was made clear to both Gilligan and the Skipper when the Maritime Board was blaming Skipper for the accident, and then Skipper was blaming Gilligan for the accident. The other castaways were horrified. Nothing was worth killing yourself over!

But what do you do when you just want to get rid of the pain that follows you everywhere?

Sometimes it seems that all Mr. Howell wants is a caddy and a houseboy. Gilligan is so far beneath him on the social ladder he's not even on the lowest rung. In fact, if anything, he's the one holding the ladder to make sure no-one else more important falls off. This makes Gilligan feel conflicted in so many ways. He becomes defensive. They need him just as much as he needs them, and as much as they all need each other. Why do there always have to be so many power struggles?

_I'm not as stupid as they think I am. I'm not!_

A beach spider crawls towards him. He puts his arm out and rests the back of his hand on the sand. The spider hesitates then crawls onto his fingers. It tickles. He laughs, picks it up and looks it in the eye. "People hate you too," he tells it. "They think you're just an ugly old spider with too many legs. They don't see the brave little guy that I do. You go out there in the open and every day you're in danger of being crushed or trampled or eaten by birds." He puts the spider down and lets it go on its way.

_Like me. Crushed and trampled. And I probably would get eaten by a bird too, if there was one big enough._

Ginger can never make up her mind, either. She only likes him when she wants something. The rest of the time she thinks he's just a boy. She even said that to the Skipper. "Gilligan's just a boy."

_How old do I have to be not to be a boy any more? I'm already 22 years old!_

"Even Mary Ann." Gilligan still remembers that day well, and he doesn't even want to go back there, to the day when everyone had just about had enough of him. His attempts at doing magic tricks hadn't been any worse than anyone else's. If it wasn't for them all thinking how wonderful Ginger was and comparing his failures to her successes they wouldn't have all sat round the table talking about him as if he didn't exist.

_I'm a human being._

Sometimes it seems as though they forget that.

_Skinny awkward kids have feelings too!_

The cave isn't very comfortable. It's a cave, after all. It's damp and musty and offers no warmth or light. Stones dig into his backside and he gets cramps in his legs. He keeps saying he'll store a pillow and a blanket in here for times like these. But when Gilligan isn't unhappy, when he's having a good day and the weather's nice and the other castaways are smiling at him, he forgets how low he feels. He forgets the crushing loneliness, the sharp pangs of homesickness that accompany it. He forgets the dull ache in his chest. He forgets the headache that starts between his eyes where he's been unconsciously frowning and spreads out in a circle around his head until it throbs behind his ears. He forgets it because it's not how he should feel. It's not how anyone should feel, because Gilligan being Gilligan, he would never wish any kind of pain on anyone else. He's pretty sure they do have their low moments. It's just that he doesn't know any other way to deal with his. Escape is the easiest option.

Only it isn't. It just causes more problems. More Gilligan problems for everyone else to deal with. They end up chasing after him with platters of food and Mr. Howell's teddy and declarations of love that they never say otherwise.

_Well, you guys sure picked a fine time to decide you love me, when all I want to do is get away from you!_

"Little buddy, if you didn't want anyone to know where you were, why did you put up a big sign saying 'No Body Iz Hom'?" The Skipper said once. And they all laughed, all except Gilligan.

"So you'd know there wasn't anybody home," Gilligan had replied, confused. "And you'd walk on by."

"But Gilligan," the Skipper had continued, one eye on his audience, "putting up a sign saying nobody's home is a sure fire way of telling people somebody _is_ home."

"Huh? How can it be? If it says nobody's home, then nobody's home!" But Gilligan stopped then, because somebody _was_ home. He had been in the cave all the time that sign was out there saying he wasn't. So even though he wanted them to leave him alone, it looked like he wanted them to find him.

"I'm confused," he'd admitted. And then they'd all laughed even louder. Just like they always did, like they were glad he was back and that the silly nonsense had come to an end.

Until the next time it happened.

And the next.

Until one day they just began accepting it and saying "Gilligan's gone to his cave again."

_Gilligan's having one of his moments._

Gilligan hugs his knees. Eventually the wall of the cave hurts the bones of his spine, so he shifts position again. The beach spider has long gone, off to do what it can to survive another day. Gilligan picks at his untied shoelaces. He trails his fingertips through the sand. He pushes his hat to the back of his head and pulls at his hair, thinking how long it's getting. He looks for patterns in the rock. He sees what looks like a face. If he tilts his head to one side and squints, it looks a bit like his old friend Skinny Mulligan.

_Well, hello there, Skinny. Imagine meeting you here!_

_Why, if it ain't Goofy Gilligan. How are you, my old friend? Still hanging in there?_

_Uh...we're not allowed to talk about hanging._

_You know what I mean. Gosh, you always were so literal._

_Oh, yeah. Ha. _Pause._ What's literal?_

Gilligan blinks, open mouthed. Okay, that's crazy. Not only is Skinny talking to him inside his head, he's using words that Gilligan doesn't even know.

_I guess that means it's time to go back to the huts._

Gilligan crawls out of the cave. He winces as he unfurls himself and stands upright, but the bright warmth of the sun soon seeps into his bones and loosens his joints. He wasn't built for sitting huddled over in a small space for hours at a time. He was built for running, jumping and swimming. His arms were made for motorcycle impressions. His legs were made for leaping over tall buildings in a single bound. He was made for laughing and joking, even if he didn't always get their jokes, and they didn't always get his. He was made for being a friend, and he was made for letting them be a friend to him. Especially Mary Ann, who had more power to wound him or make him feel like the greatest man alive than anyone else, even the Skipper.

_Maybe I _am _growing up. Now I know that life isn't always happy and good. That sometimes it hurts and the pain feels like it'll never go away. But there isn't anything else, is there? You just have to deal with it the best way you can._

Gilligan looks around him. The island is beautiful and the sun is shining. He has no reason to be afraid. He puts his hands out as though holding onto motorcycle handlebars and guns the 'throttle'. He roars loudly and kicks his imaginary motorcycle off the stand. Then he spins around and takes off, roaring through the trees like a Harley Davidson.


End file.
